Patrick Chartrand

I’m going to let you in on a secret about rape that I learned while bouncing at 3 nightclubs concurrently for my entire undergrad. 500 nights at the club dealing with women and creeps have produced some insight. The first thing to understand is that 99% of date-rape cases are just patently false. Every weekend like clockwork a new tiny girl who hadn’t eaten all day would confidently down 5 shots of tequila then claim she was drugged once word got around that she shit herself in a cab, or fell asleep in a dumpster. I’ve lost count of how many of them were perplexed to report that their drug tests came back clean the next morning. BUT… In my 500 nights of service, I witnessed it happen for real, bill cosby style, twice. And in 100% of those cases it was a black or an Indian guy. The first was a guy named Sohil who had actually openly made some suspect remarks to people I knew. Why was nothing done? Because the concept was so completely alien to the white guys around him that they simply didn’t believe what they were hearing. It was exactly like the scene from American Psycho where he talks about a girls head on a stick as though it’s the punchline to a joke, and his friends just exchange a weird look and carry on. That’s how crazy the prospect of rape sounds to white guys, he might as well have said he had a head in his freezer. Ultimately, Sohil was caught trying to sneak into a drugged girl’s bedroom window after her roommates had shuttled her home for the night. He was sentenced to 2 years in prison. There was no international outrage, no big news articles, nothing. Just a post on Facebook shared between the bar staff. The second was a black guy from Martinique. He was a charming niggardly character who hung around the bars every weekend bumming cigarettes or making a few bucks selling fake cocaine. He lived in someone’s walk-in closet for $300 a month. He had rumours circulating about his predation, but nobody had anything concrete until he was finally caught inappropriately touching an incapacitated girl and force feeding her drugs. He was quickly and brutally sentenced to a swift release and a mild scolding from a social worker. He had successfully argued to the judge that people would kill him if he were sent back to Martinique, and was therefore let off with not even a slap on the wrist. The funniest part of this whole ordeal is that we have reason to suspect that he was a refugee in the first place because he had raped the wrong guy’s sister back home. You genuinely can’t make this shit up. Word got around to the bars, but this was back in the day. We didn’t have ID scanners, and hiring was a revolving door. Every Fortnite we’d have a new roster of Dianabol enthusiasts standing at the entrance letting groups of bombshells skip the line. It was impossible to entirely keep people out. And so within 2 months it happened again. Exactly the same as last time. And the black guy hit the judge with the exact same excuse. Luckily the judge finally came to his senses, and sent him back to a third world shithole. He has lived in Paris France ever since. I tell these stories because I’m at my whits end with headlines like the one I see below. At this point we’re so used to being gaslit that the omission of a description is as good as a 4K portrait. So I’ll do my small part to set record straight. It is never the white men.